Desperate
by ToniTheTerror
Summary: GREGORYxMOLE Gregory and Mole are on opposite sides. Enemies. But Mole needs Gregory's help desperately. Just as both boys need each other desperately.
1. Chapter 1: You're Not Coming Over

**Desperate**

**Title: **_Desperate – Chapter One_  
**Author(s): **_Toni (Dark--romance)_  
**Editor:** _None. That's why it's so bad :3_  
**Fandom: **_South Park._**  
Pairing: **_Christophe-ZeMole/Gregory._  
**Dedicated to:** _My Gregory ;D_  
**Warnings: **_Yaoi/gay/slash/whatever, language, violence on Christophe's part because he's a beetch, lack of good grammar xD_  
**Inspiration:** Song = _Psychobabble – Frou Frou._

**Disclaimer: **As much as I wish I did;I don't own South Park or any of its characters. South Park © Matt Stone and Trey Parker

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**Comments:** This is an awesome song, that totally reminds me of these two. Uh. I don't know if I'm gonna chapter this thing, but.. eh.  
First song-related fic. So be nice.

This fic contains French-swears, English-swears and gayness. Don't like it? Megabyte me.

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The shrill ringing of a telephone broke and shattered the silence like a bullet shot.

"Hello?"

"'Ello."

A heart skipped a few beats, a gloved hand ran through blonde hair and a soft british voice uttered a quiet, disbelieving:

"Christophe...?"

"Oui?" the voice answered, as if their conversation was in the safe areas of 'normal'. Gregory took a moment to steady himself, placing a slender hand on the table, to grip it and even his weight.

"How... Why are you calling me?" Gregory asked. "We are enemies, Mole. I have told you that before!" A hint of slight anger was rising in the Brit's voice as he spoke. He wondered lightly whether this iwas/i Christophe. He had no evidence of his truth.

"Well, excusez moi," The voice replied, smoothly. "But I do not g'eeve a sheet what you 'ave told me before."

"You don't give a _'sheeet'_ about anything, you bastard!" Gregory snapped, imitating Christophe's accent rather well. The French man gave a low, short chuckle before he inhaled deeply. Gregory could tell, without a glimmer of doubt; it was definitely Christophe. No other being could hold such an intriguing laugh, not to mention a drag on a cigarette to follow.

"You 'ave always known me so well." Chrisophe said as he exhaled, presumably blowing the smoke from his lungs.

Gregory sighed. His heart was involuntarily fluttering. He knew, deep in whatever heart he possessed, that he was happy to hear from Christophe. There were times when he wondered if the _'impossible'_ had become possible, and Mole had been killed... Then he realised that it was **Mole**, and that he should stop worrying (Christophe was not stupid enough to get himself killed) and focus on what_ 'mattered'_.

"What do you want, Mole?" Gregory asked. He had to end this conversation as quickly as possible. Yes, Gregory would have willingly stayed on the phone for hours with Christophe, even if he wouldn't admit it, he was both relieved to hear Christophe was still alive, and flattered that he would call _him_. It meant that he hadn't forgotten him, at least... But they had to stop talking with one another. They were enemies, different sides, and this conversation was putting them both in danger.

"I need your 'elp," the French male informed his opposite. "So I am com'eeng over."

Gregory froze for a moment, his heart beat increasing. If he were not wearing gloves, it would have been clear to see how white his knuckles were growing from clutching the table.

Coming over?

He picked **now** to want to visit? The moment their war had begun?

No. He had to decline. It was impossible!

"Mole, there is no-" Gregory began, but the line was cut short. A dull, continuous tone met his ears. He stared before him, holding the phone desperately at his ear still, as though he hoped for the voice to return.

But it didn't... and Gregory was forced to replace the phone on its rest.


	2. Chapter 2: If Love Is Surrender

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**Desperate**

This fic contains French-swears, English-swears and gayness. Don't like it? Megabyte me.b

**Comments: Aw, god I hate this chapter. Leave me alooone~ I can't write Gregory.**

**Oh, and his gun? Looks like this: **.org/wiki/File:Taurus_PT145_

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A million thoughts rushed through Gregory's head as he stood staring at the wall opposite. His shockingly blue eyes were wide, his mouth hung open, and his hands had begun to shake.

There really was no doubt about it. Christophe would be killed on site within instants.

Gregory was important to the army. His brain was fast and clever. No-one else could disable a bomb in record time like he could. He was the nineteen year old genius of his era, and was therefore protected. His house was always being watched. It was armed with the fastest technology that thrived, and the fastest soldiers on call in case of danger.

What was more, Christophe was a known enemy. With his dark eyes, trademark cigarette, shovel clad appearance and thick French accent; he wasn't exactly easy to miss. He refused to change, go into hiding or leave without his shovel, so Christophe always looked exactly the same.

Gregory ran a hand through his white-blond hair and thought about his strategy. He had to keep an eye out for Christophe. He would be able to notice him first. When that happened, Gregory would shout, yell, run... he would do whatever he could to get the French man to leave. To turn around, run and not turn back. It would be hard, he knew this, but he had to try.

The top window of the attic would be the best place to see Christophe straight away.

Just as he began up the stairs behind him, his foot on the very bottom level; a hasty, harsh and hard knock sounded from the door.

Gregory span round, heart beating a samba against his ribs as he gaped to the door. A faint gray shadow cast against the door. It was hard to see the facial features from here, but Gregory saw no shape that resembled the famous shovel.

He moved over to the door and tugged it open, raising his eyes slowly.

It was not Christophe.

Gregory sighed. He hadn't expected the French man to be stood there, really. But it hadn't stopped him from hoping just a little.

There stood a soldier; Brown hair, brown eyes, dead-pan expression. Gregory opened the door a little wider to let the man inside. He proceeded to take this offer, walking over to the hall cabinet, taking off his helmet, and resting it on the lid.

"Afternoon, Gregory." He said gruffly. Gregory nodded his greeting, folding his arms. He felt no need to ask why the man had arrived at his house, nor the need to be welcoming.

"I have arrived to protect you." The soldier said.

"Protect?" Gregory asked, a deep frown settling on his face. "I am not some child, you know! I can look after myself."

The soldier sent him a glance, then laughed lowly.  
"Just orders, shrimp. Don't yell at me for following orders."

Gregory scowled and made his way into the kitchen.

_'Shrimp, indeed.'_ he thought angrily. He had never heard of such a thing. Him; Being called pet-names of all things. The soldier had followed Gregory inside, heaving his heavy boots past the slim blonde to stand behind him.  
"Is there any particular reason you have been called to my house?" Gregory asked acidly as he picked a glass from the drainer beside his sink. He wanted this man out of his residence as quickly as possible. He didn't like his attitude, nor his aura. He gave off a bad vibe.

"You're in danger, apparently." The soldier said gruffly. Gregory noted how the soldier didn't act as though the ground Gregory walked on was pure gold.

"Danger?" he asked, turning with the glass in his hands. "From what?"

"Not what," the soldier corrected. "Who."

Gregory furrowed his brow. His neat, pale eyebrows knitted together as he placed the glass down on the worktop. He had a sneaking suspicion, and if he was correct...

"Have you and your bosses put a bug in my telephone?" he asked slowly. The soldier smirked and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a very soft, scratching noise. It almost sounded like a cat, begging for entrance from a cold night.

"You hear that?" the soldier asked, ducking his head, as if this would give him better hearing. Gregory nodded, and tried to place where it was coming from.

"The... Living room." Gregory said, slowly moving to the door of the kitchen. His hand was over the door-knob as a black Taurus Millennium series PT145 pistol was drawn from his belt, smoothly.

He slowly prised the door open, and crept stealthily down the corridor towards his Living Room. As he drew closer, he heard more noises from the room. The noise was still scratching at the window, but it was joined by strained noises, and certain bumps. Gregory pictured the intruder attempting to open the window to gain their entrance.

Gregory held fast, his back against the door. He quietly clicked his gun into firing arms, and glanced to the kitchen door. The soldier was standing in the doorway, preparing to follow Gregory once he had proceeded.

Gregory gave the man a quick nod, before his hand met with the living room door handle.

He was just about to open the door, when a loud obscenity was cursed loudly from the other side of the door, followed by an almighty crash, the sound of shattering glass and more curses.

_**"SHEET!"**_

Gregory now had no doubt who the 'intruder' was. He opened the door quietly, and peeked around the wood.

Christophe.

He was sat on the floor, amidst a pile of smashed panes of glass and broken beams of plastic. The space behind him where the window had once been was now empty, open to the fresh air outside. Christophe cursed again, wiping his dirty face of the blood, and looked up.

"Ello, Gregory." He said with a lopsided grin. "Sorr'ee I took so long."


	3. NOTICE

This is a short notice to anyone reading, watching or waiting for another chapter of Desperate.

Since I lost the South Park fandom, I rendered this fic as impossible to continue.

Now, however - I've hugely got back into it. Ahaha. And more importantly, massively into Gregory/Christophe again.

As this story only has one chapter (and I wrote it such a long time ago) I'm gonna re-write it.

This way it'll sound better, and I might not hate it as much. Ahaha~

I still remember the storyline- how lame is that.

Sorry, you guys! I'll get this up asap. 3

Thanks,

toni x


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